


Procrastinating the Hard Way

by ceilingfan5



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Consentacles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Face-Fucking, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Sex Magic, Sexual Fantasy, Simultaneous Orgasm, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, everything else that goes with tentacles, just trying to do his job, magic item, real fantasy, sort of solo, wild imagination, work interrupted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 08:54:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14077338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceilingfan5/pseuds/ceilingfan5
Summary: Kravitz, swamped with paperwork after a few successful necromancer raids, gets a little distracted and toys with a magic item he confiscated instead. How could he have expected what the Ring of Explicit Fantasy did? The fact that his imagination specifically put those tentacles on an imaginary Taako was entirely coincidence and okay he knew exactly what he was getting into. Look, if a man can't be honest with tentacles up his ass, where can he be?





	Procrastinating the Hard Way

**Author's Note:**

> This is set somewhere in the yawning void between the taakitz date and their official meetup in Story and Song. It is also entirely an excuse to finally publish some tentacle porn. If this is your brand, just became your brand, or you enjoyed it for the plot, leave me a comment to encourage more of whatever the fuck it is in the future. It only makes me more powerful.

Something was making it unnecessarily difficult for Kravitz to focus on his work that afternoon.

It was a fantasy Kravitz returned to often, especially when he was bored or alone, which is unfortunately how he spent a lot of his time when he was not actively hunting necromancers for the Raven Queen. It particularly made paperwork difficult when he couldn't get his mind off of it and his eyes were crossing trying to fill in all of the appropriate boxes and codes.

Because it was so easy to wish himself away from the stupid repetitive task and his too-warm office and imagine certain things…certain inappropriate things…....Such as tentacles. Okay. Yes. He knows. No comment.

He couldn't get them out of his head though, small or thick or slick or smooth, but he was starting to piece together his favorite scene one stolen moment at a time. Thick ones bind him, in whatever position their owner desires, down on his knees or weightless in the air, legs spread far apart to make him as vulnerable as possible, and even that thought made him sweaty enough before he let himself continue, because of course there's more, there is always more, and that comes in the form of slightly smaller tentacles, more agile and dexterous and infinitely fond of the textures of his body, exploring and stroking and teasing and tangling and plunging and choking-

Kravitz removed his tie and tried to ground himself. Pen in his hand. A nice one. Form c35. Number of new deaths: thirteen. Number of resurrections: twenty four. Number of tentacles? It kept changing, but he wanted there to be dozens, of every variety, to fill up his mouth and press up inside him and wrap around his cock with spiteful fondness, playing with him, preventing release, as the strange warmth and radiating tingle from the slick lubrication the smaller ones drip soak right into his bloodstream, loosening him up from the inside out and making him ache to be filled by one, two, three, more, as many as it can spare, making his mind go as soft and warm and boneless and needy as his body…

Eleven more pages of this? He was going to die first. 

He stood up from his desk. Tried to pace a little. His office wasn’t small, but he was behind on paperwork and inventory after a one necromancer hunt lead to a coven nest and he had to follow the lead before it expired. He could use his computer to enter data, but he hated the damn thing, and it was easier to bully his anxiety into performance when there were stacks of paper and ugly brown intake boxes to kick into and feel bad about. The system was magic and took the data either way. He hated it, but it helped to find new targets. He was fucked, though. After the paperwork came sorting through the confiscated materials. 

They were fully allowed to take the magic items, unlike the Bureau. They just had to acknowledge the item’s existence. What they didn’t pocket was destroyed if it was dangerous, or put back into circulation with a tracing spell on it. Kravitz didn’t usually pocket the items, doesn’t usually care, and his own weapons were rarely overpowered by the enchanted garbage these fools tend to put together. 

But it wasn’t the weapons that caught his attention. 

He caught it on the arcana check and he’d been fiddling with it on his desk since. Deciding. Weighing his options. Maybe that’s what was kicking his lust into overdrive, or maybe it was just an excuse. 

The Ring of Explicit Fantasy. It was pretty fucking clear what it probably did, and Kravitz had gotten it with a fantasy Clorox wipe real good before he’d even bothered taking a closer look. It was almost certainly a piece of cheap smutmagic, and maybe it had been powered up a bit. He knew it was stupid to use it, and probably kind of nasty.

But. 

But. He fingered the dial, and it clicked in a way that was disproportionately satisfying. Little runes marked each spot, ones Kravitz wasn’t terribly familiar with, but it was pretty clear. Demons. Click. Vampires. Click. Whips and chains. Click. Tentacles. And so on.

Kravitz looked at his pile of paperwork. Click. Unclick. 

Click. Unclick. 

Maybe he could wake up really early the next morning.

He slipped it on. 

His office shifted like water around him and something gripped his stomach. Not exactly nausea. The unfiltered black coffee ripple of unbridled sex magic shot through his body so fast and hard he imagined himself arched like a startled cat. Not cheap. Homebrew. This shit was unregulated and it left a metallic taste in his mouth and a sharp pull in his gut. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, to an audience of zero. Or slightly less than zero. He was still in his office, still ostensibly alone, but the dark shadows his dim desk lamp couldn’t shake were moving insistently toward him, his fantasy quite seriously brought to life. He had imagined it a little different though, he thought, even as one slick, dark thing gripped his ankle. A little more personal. 

Just like that, it shifted, personalizing, turning from anonymous tendrils to a face so familiar he really blushed. Was it weird to imagine Taako while he masturbated, especially with a piece of illicit horny necromagic tech on his finger?

Fuck, if anyone would be okay with it, it would be Taako. He thought of their first, and rather intimate, meeting, thought of their date, thought of some of the texts he’d gotten after the fact, and then he imagined telling Taako about this and seeing how far magic could take them beyond fantasy and okay, okay, okay, the tentacles hadn’t stopped when he got distracted, and they were climbing him with an insistence matched on the faux-Taako’s face. 

“Hey there, handsome.” 

Something about the voice was off, but laced with enough magic vibrations that Kravitz couldn’t care less. 

“Yes. Um. Hello.”  
“What are you blushing at a magical construct for, hm?” A tentacle brushed his cheek and he jumped a little, touching the trace it left behind. Warming the skin as it snuck under his collar. “Not shy, are you? We’re in private. This is all up to you.”

Kravitz inhaled. And locked the door. And he took his jacket off. 

“So slow,” the Taako-construct complained. Either his imagination had been focusing on those paltry memories too much, or the magic in this ring was a lot stronger than he ever would have imagined. It was so him, even monsterfied as he was. Somehow he looked just right with those slit pupils and purple tentacles and sharp shit eating grin. So realistic Kravitz kind of wanted to call him and check, but how the fuck would he even start the conversation, honestly, and-

“I’m getting bored,” Taako said. “And I’m not down for that.” The thicker tentacles grabbed Kravitz by the limbs like a heavily flushed rag doll, making short work of his nice clothes and to be quite frank, Kravitz was thankful for the support. His knees were weak and he was already unsteady with the rush of the imaginary chemical running through his veins, mollifying him and making him needy, loose and wanting, desperate and compliant, and part of him was uncomfortable with losing control but the rest of him had never been happier to so freely give it up. He’d been dreaming of this since before he had died, but it had never really been feasible. Most achievable situations didn’t lend themselves to safe and consenting aphrodisiacs, tentacles aside, and yet here he was.

Getting distracted again. 

“Am I not interesting enough for you?” Taako mock pouted. “Am I going to have to order you around?”

Kravitz nodded, his head lolling and fuzzy and warm. He was so safe and warm and happy and all he wanted to do was please this creature. His friend. His boyfriend? He wanted them so badly to be a couple. It was a foolish thing for him to want, a mortal and a troublemaker on the List besides, but he was beautiful and powerful and sly and-

The thick tentacles squeezed and pulled, moving Kravitz into a much more vulnerable position, feet barely touching the ground. One very slick something pushed up against him, teasing, threatening. 

“Look at me, now.” 

He needed a lot of attention that Kravitz was happy to provide. Kravitz turned his eyes to see him, to behold a creature so grand, so generous to play with something as foolish and easily overwhelmed as him, and moaned without restraint when that tentacle pushed easily inside him. Muscle relaxer. It had to be, because even his cloudy mind could guess at the size of the tentacle and it sent jurassic butterflies through his bloodstream. More tentacles positioned his head, wrapped around his neck, played in his hair, teased every inch of his extremely exposed skin, and he loved it, reveled in it, thanked the gods for it. 

“You’re perfect,” he slurred, somewhere in Taako’s direction. 

“Oh, I know, baby.” He leaned in and let the tentacles guide Kravitz’s face to his, taking his face in his hands and kissing him even more senseless, magic ripples shooting through his body like a quiver full of Cupid’s finest. His tongue was nearly as sharp as his teeth, skilled and sweet, and he kissed like it was just as much of a blessing for him to be there. He pulled away too soon and left Kravitz wanting more, more, always more, and he smiled a dangerous, beautiful smile and Kravitz melted. 

“Beautiful thing.” Taako caressed his cheek with his long, delicate, magical fingers, and Kravitz shivered. “I want you to be all mine.” 

Kravitz tried to pledge his undying loyalty, but his tongue was busy tying itself in knots. He was babbling, drooling, and Taako laughed his musical, ridiculous laugh and kissed him again. 

“Sensitive, aren’t you?” 

He wanted to be. That was the long and short of it. He wanted to be here, wanted to lose control and submit, wanted to get fucked a million ways from Sunday by a beautiful man with strange and beguiling...talents. He wanted to feel like he belonged, like he belonged with someone, or to someone, or to anything more than a cause and a duty and a long, long trail of paperwork. 

He especially wanted to get his brains fucked out and get cuddled afterward, and by the gods, he’d committed this far already. 

Taako laughed again, his illusion reading Kravitz’s weak mind and weaker libido, and more tentacles appeared from nowhere in particular, wrapping him up like a box of leftovers to enjoy for hours and hours. Some pushed into his mouth, or joined the one deep inside him, and he felt so, so full and content he could barely tell up from down. 

The stronger ones moved him, so he, boneless, had to do nothing but take it and moan with his mouth full, keeping a rhythm he could hardly handle just to blow his senses clear out of the water. One wrapped around his cock playfully, teased and stroked and held fast when he bucked his hips uselessly, taunting him with absolution. Every nerve was alive with pleasure and pressure and need and he could feel the tendrils moving, probing, working every possible tiny sound out of him. The smaller ones twisted around the fattest, slick and textured and perfect, testing just how much he could possibly handle and serving him a little bit more. 

It was so sweet. The air was thick with it, and Kravitz imagined he could even hear it in the way his blood rushed in his ears, desperate, but also a little too slow, somehow. Leisurely, like they had all the time in the world for this, for Taako to enjoy him, and the thought pushed back into the echo chamber that Kravitz’s brain had become that he wanted Taako to be just as happy. Somewhere far, far away, his better senses wanted him to know that it was just a fantasy, that it was useless to try to please a mirage, but the heart wants what the heart wants, and the dick gets what the dick gets, and the Taako smiled at him with an “if that’s what you want” smile. Kravitz watched him strip the rest of the way, his wayward heart fluttering at the smallest of glimpses, and he ached at the sight of Taako’s perfect, most wonderful body. 

The tentacles blended in seamlessly, a gorgeous shimmering purple, bright even in the dim light with their secretion, wrapping around his legs and teasing himself. The thick tentacles pushed Kravitz to his knees, dangled like a marionette, and the tentacles in his mouth pulled back to make way for something a little more important. 

Taako’s cock tasted just as good, just as magical, somehow, like destiny, or perhaps just fulfillment. Surprisingly normal against the rest of his imagination’s additions, but perhaps he’d treasured that “accidental” dick pic too often to let it go, even in his fantasy. He was smitten, to be honest with himself, and if a man couldn’t be honest with tentacles up his ass, where could he be? 

He took it all the way. Easy. Not because it was small, but because he’d been ready. His throat felt too warm, too full, but nothing had ever felt so right in his mouth. Kravitz didn’t bother moving his head, he wanted Taako to do it for him, and with strong hands wrapped tightly in his hair, Taako did just that. He used Kravitz’s face, and more importantly, he finally made the sounds that had been coming out of Kravitz for what seemed like all afternoon. His moan was as sweet as his laugh, and Kravitz closed his eyes and smiled just as much as he could possibly manage. 

He swallowed against him, teased with his tongue, and he felt the relief as an echo when Taako finally let go, his orgasm matching itself in Kravitz almost immediately. The sensation was too much to bear, overwhelming in its chemically and magically heightened ecstacy, and he buried his face against Taako’s soft thigh, moaning and whimpering through aftershock after aftershock, carried on bursts of spontaneous tentacle movement. 

He felt raw, and too warm, and sore. Used up, and adored, and full, and satisfied beyond all concept of satisfaction he’d ever had before, and as each tentacle moved itself from inside him into a snuggling position, he felt emptier than he could have possibly imagined, but safe, so safe, and adored, and needed. Taako wrapped his arms around him too, strong and clever and possessive, and Kravitz, feeling boneless and adored, settled into them like he had never belonged anywhere else. 

He cast the easiest teleportation spell he knew to take himself to bed, and the fantasy came with him. Paperwork could wait. Liches and Necromancers and the reality of long-distance relationships could wait. What had waited much, much too long was Kravitz’s body, overworked and under cared-for, in desperate need of a good, hard fuck and an even harder snuggle. Tentacles were good for finding places where the sun didn’t shine, but that particular ability also made them especially good for holding tired, overworked reapers, and stroking their hair until they fell into deep, dreamless sleep. 

They happened to also be useful for slipping off the ring and tucking it away for later, an echo of a desire so powerful it manifested in magic strong enough to stick around just long enough afterward to kiss his forehead and tuck the blanket around his sticky, well-used, absolutely loveable body.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me a comment and/or an enthusiastic kudos if you enjoyed this. I left myself an excellent opening if I want to make a similar situation with other variations with that ring in the future if that's something that interests you...  
> Follow me on twitter @ceilingfan_5 to be directly responsible for some more of this sort of nonsense.


End file.
